


Grief

by LittlePine



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Complicated feelings towards an abusive parent, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie hates being sentimental, Established Relationship, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29120709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittlePine/pseuds/LittlePine
Summary: "Rich". He said, finally. "Do you remember that time I broke my arm?"Richie raised a brow at him. "After the... When we were...? Yeah.""It was my Mom, you know?" Eddie smiled bitterly, glancing over to Richie and quickly shifting his gaze down to his own palms, rubbing a phantom scar with his thumb. "'Lover'. You guys always thought I was so clever for covering that "S" with a "V". But it was my mom. Who did that. Not me."-It's the anniversary of Sonia Kaspbrak's death, and Eddie deals with the complex reality of mourning her.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 50





	Grief

**Author's Note:**

> I've noticed the fandom loves exploring who it was that added the "V" to Eddie's "Loser" cast. I love all theories, but always wondered how beautifully sad it would be if Eddie's mother, negative, abusive, complicated Sonia actually did that. It sent me down the spiral of the complex realities of loving a bad parent, and I wanted to write a little bit about that.

The Early morning drizzle trickled lightly against the fogged window, surrounding Richie’s bedroom with the echoes of gentle raindrops, and the soft earthy scent of misty soil.   
  
It was uncommonly rainy for the season, but after a scorching, humid summer, no one who lived in southern california, let alone a particular couple with New England roots, dared to complain. Besides, Eddie had an affinity to inclement, cuddle-worthy weather, so Richie liked it just fine by proxy. 

Sundays were usually reserved for slow makeout sessions and lazy snuggling until they’re both entirely restless or starving (though if it were up to Richie, he’s quite content staying in a lethargic state with Eddie till the point of bedsores, to which Eddie typically responds: _Gross, Richie_.) This morning though, the rain tapping woke Richie earlier than he would have, and to his surprise found the man beside him in bed fully seated, knees against his chest, steamy cup of tea between his palms, eyes following the raindrops trail down the window intently. 

Illuminated by a delicate morning glow, he looked so serene. Even at his most calm Eddie had always been high strung and fidgety, and while there wasn’t anything Richie didn’t adore about that, the smaller man looking uncharacteristically peaceful was positively enchanting. The floral, herbal aroma rising from his mug completed the image to one Richie wanted to hang onto for just a few more moments. He lingered, before gently snaking an arm across Eddie’s hips and burying his face against his torso, nuzzling at his side. “Being up this early on a sunday is illegal Eds.” He whined.  
  
Eddie smiled and caressed his hair with affection, still watching the rain. Richie yawned and tightened his embrace. “Rain woke you up, babe?”

“Not exactly”, Eddie replied softly, sipping from his mug, shifting his caress into gentle scratches against Richie’s scalp in appeasing movements, as if to apologize for breaking some unnamed sacred vow against early sundays. Richie couldn’t help but feel like Eddie’s puppy sometimes, and he was absolutely fine with that.  
  
He closed his eyes against Eddie, breathing him in and enjoying the reality of the moment before looking up again, this time noticing a melancholic glint to Eddie’s eyes. Not exactly morose or sullen, but definitely contemplative. Away with thoughts. 

“Rich.” He said, finally. “Do you remember that time I broke my arm?”  
Richie raised a brow at him. “After the… When we were… Yeah?”   
Eddie nodded, still transfixed on the window. “And that Greta girl signed my cast. At the pharmacy.”   
Richie snickered. “That bitch. Yes. I remember.”  
“She still works there you know.” Eddie chuckled at the memory. “In Derry. At that pharmacy.”   
“Serves her right.” Richie Yawned again against Eddie. “For staying stuck there. That’s karma for ya.”   
Eddie smiled, amused by Richie's vindictive streak. “I don’t know that karma works like that, Rich. I mean, she might have had an OK life, you know? Who am I to judge.” He stretched to place his tea cup on the nightstand, careful not to break the pleasant contact with Richie, and settled back to his seated position.   
  
“I…” He started. “It was my Mom, you know?” He smiled bitterly, glancing over to Richie and quickly shifting his gaze down to his own palms, rubbing a phantom scar with his thumb, suddenly awkward somehow. “ _‘Lover’_..You guys always thought I was so clever, covering the ‘S’ with that 'V'. But it was my mom. Who did that. Not me.”

The air tensed, and Richie got the devastating sense Eddie was admitting to something he was deeply ashamed of. He so desperately wanted to shake him out of it, kiss him breathless and let him know everything is alright, but he knew better than to interrupt Eddie’s train of deep introspection, to ruin a rare moment of rawness.  
  
Eddie wasn’t idealistic, Richie knows. He rarely felt entirely comfortable discussing feelings, emotions or his psyche in a way that didn’t involve scoffing, the occasional eye roll, or dark humor. Confessions bathed in sarcasm. It wasn’t just the east coast that made him contemptful towards any signs of forced sentimentality. Eddie was always a man, a boy, who pushed back. Constantly proving he is more resilient than people gave him credit for, determined to scorn anyone who dared to adjudicate him delicate. So when Eddie, THE EDDIE who thought _REQUIEM FOR A DREAM_ was _too cheesy_ , finally bared his soul, in those holy moments Richie was quiet and still as a church mouse.

“She died today. 7 years ago. I... Sorry I didn't tell you. I still don’t know what to feel about that. You think I’d reach _some_ sort of coherent resolution... emotion... _conclusion_ about the whole thing. But the truth is it’s weird, mourning someone like that. Well, you knew her. Someone like Sonia, Not exactly... mother of the year, right?  
  
He chuckled, as if for Richie's sake. To lighten the mood. Then took a deep breath.   
  
"But... But she’d still do things like _that_. You know? Like the V on my cast. Whenever I was bullied or came home all beaten up. I mean sure, she’d go into hours long screaming fits about how I should be more careful cause _‘you know what a delicate, small boy you are!’,_ and blame all of _you_ guys for dragging me into your shenanigans. And I just… took it. What could I do, man? Other than chant _‘Sorry Mommy. You’re right Mommy._ ’ over and over again. But then after the storm she’d say things like... ‘ _You’re a lover, Eddie-bear._ _You are so good. So Good to me. Everyone will see that one day.’_ And I know it's like... _textbook_ _manipulation_ , but… well.”

Richie was circling patterns on his arm, just to let him know he’s there, listening. Eddie reached to squeeze his fingers in response. 

“We... _ha_. We had this thing, where we’d sit together, she’d sew or apply nail-polish or whatever and I’d tell her something _amazing and new_ I learned about. Nothing very exciting, Rich, it was anything from the newest _Thundercats_ episode to the properties of isosceles triangles. Whatever it was, she’d nod and say “ _Well isn’t that something_!” Like it's the most interesting thing in the whole fucking world."   
  
He laughed. A good laugh Richie yearned to hear more of, but he proceeded to close his eyes and clear his throat.  
  
“She wasn’t completely herself towards the end. Strange and delirious, exhausted with chemo, pumped with sedatives… kept calling me my Dad’s name, blaming him, me, for everything bad that ever happened to her and yelling hysterically about the nurses ‘ _trying to kill her_ ’. It was awful, honestly. This one time though, just a few days before she… well. It was a good day. She felt fine, considering. She seemed clear. She recognized me, I made her laugh. She asked me to help her look nice and sharp for the _new nurses_ that are coming to visit. There were no new nurses coming, Rich. I don’t know what that was about.” Eddie snorted. “You should’ve seen us there, Me brushing her hair and smearing on makeup while she’s mumbling inconsistently about the importance of looking presentable in any given situation, ‘ _dying is no excuse’_ . It looked like some fucked up scene from Grey Gardens.”  
  
Richie chuckled softly in support, but moreso because it sounded actually funny and kind of beautiful, in a terrible way.  
  
“I brought her favorite jewelry from her house with me that day, some cheap plastic seashell earrings and necklace set she absolutely loved for some fucking reason and went with everywhere. Then she turned to me and said ‘ _I love you, Eddie-Bear. So good to me, still_.’ ...I cried all goddamn night. Maybe I was just as tired as she was. It was a long month. But.. I sorta hoped it meant she finally understood everything she.... I don’t know. Maybe I’m naive.”

He sighed, shoulders slumping as he leaned back on the bed frame. 

“I know, I know she was complicated. She made me complicated. She wanted more than anyone should ever give and because of her I truly believed for the _longest time_ that love always comes with terms and conditions. I never felt safe at home and I’m still so SO angry with her I could die. I am. But Rich…” 

He turned to Richie, lips pressed, brows pinched and glistening tears forming in his reddened eyes. His tone apologetic, pleading. 

“She was my mom.”   
  
Eddie sniffled, swallowing hard, trying to keep it together. Lost with emotion but hanging on. 

“Eddie…” Richie keened softly, sensing this was his cue to react, almost crying himself. He sat up and dragged Eddie to an embrace, clutching onto him tightly. Eddie choked into his chest, clearly still holding back. Richie didn’t know if out of embarrassment or sheer stubbornness, the pride of refusing to fall apart completely and succumb to a personal idea of weakness. Richie caressed his back in gentle but firm movements. 

“Hey, Please don’t… you don’t have to explain yourself. Please, Eds? Okay? The heart is a fucked up little bastard, I know. It’s okay. It’s okay.” In spite of, or maybe because Eddie genuinely found that sentence funny, his barriers suddenly broke and he found himself sobbing harder into Richie. With abandon. Burying his head in the crook of his neck and clutching at his shoulders. He felt like a child, and it made him burn with humiliation but also washed him with an overwhelming sense of relief. As if this is something he needed to do for a very very long time. 

“I… I just… “ Eddie tried, hiccuping between sobs. 

“Yeah. Yeah.” Richie nodded and kissed the crown of his head. “I know. It’s okay. Please just... let yourself, ok? Let go, man.” 

Eddie signed and pressed harder. They stayed like that for a few moments. Eddie’s sobs turning shorter and softer, while Richie ran his fingers through his hair. Back, Neck, Cheek, slow and patient. Eddie felt absolutely exhausted for someone who was pretty damn well rested. Is this what letting go feels like always? or was it so overwhelming because he isn't used to it? At any rate, if he's being honest, it did feel nice. But he might not be comfortable admitting that anytime soon. 

“God I hate this.” Eddie sniffled. “I really do. I feel like I'm in the third act of a horrible after-school special of some terrible eighties sitcom. This sucks.”   
Richie giggled into his hair. “You absolute gremlin. You’re gonna have to get used to being a sap if you wanna keep living on the west coast.”  
“What a nightmare.” Eddie groaned dramatically, but there was no real bite to it. 

“You know.” Richie said, wiping Eddie’s tears with his thumb. “I kinda miss her too.”   
Eddie barked a laughter. “I’m in mourning here you piece of actual shit.”   
“WHAT! Not like that! I swear I wasn’t going to make a… Jeez Eds give me _some_ credit!”   
Eddie looked up and smirked at him.  
“Okay, I see your point. Seriously though, I’m being honest. I kind of miss... a lot of people who are semi responsible for half of my current pathologies. We were kids, man. These were the main humans in our lives for such a big chunk of it. How could we not-- How can we just---”

Richie sighed, frustrated with the difficult task of finding the right words for such a complex feeling. It's something he knows all of the losers shared, The awful reality of being an adult. knowing the uncomfortable truths of your childhood, and understanding your heart won’t respond in predictable ways. The people who were supposed to protect you but didn’t, the community pillars whom you trusted and were betrayed by, they are not demon clowns you can banish away. They are part of your build, they’re imprinted to your soul. 

Eddie shifts in Richie’s arms and slowly raises himself to sit in his lap, palms cupping Richie’s cheeks. Eddie’s eyes are puffy and red and it makes Richie’s heart ache, but Eddie’s lips form into a gentle smile and that soothes him quickly. “I know.” he whispers, kissing Richie deeply. “Thank you.” 

They stay clinging together, kissing softly and playing with each other's fingers, feeling pleasant, soothed and warm. Basking in the silence of mutual understanding and faded painful memories. Soon they’ll be back to bickering over what to eat for breakfast, chatting up a storm about Richie’s new routines or the infuriating habits of Eddie’s colleagues, and bilaterally complaining about another netflix show everyone seems to like but them. For now though, they’ll notice the sound of rain has gone, and replaced exclusively by their shared breathing.

**Author's Note:**

> 1- It's so tempting and satisfying to write Sonia as a big bad Eddie has no problem tossing away, but the reality of having emotionally abusive parents is that we can't always unlove them. We also understand they, in their way, might've truly loved us too. That realization is scary, infuriating, and hard to deal with, but Eddie (WHO IS TOTALLY ALIVE AND WELL THANK YOU), is in good hands. 
> 
> 2- isn't it nice to have a fic about grief that isn't someone grieving Eddie because Eddie is totally alive and well? It's nice. I think it's nice.


End file.
